


Demons of the Night

by Imagine036



Series: Losing Sleep (and other things) [1]
Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: Can't fall asleep, F/M, Friendship, Nightmares, Romance, Sleep
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-16
Updated: 2014-04-23
Packaged: 2018-01-19 15:40:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,153
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1475167
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Imagine036/pseuds/Imagine036
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"She isn’t sleeping; it’s obvious. He can see it in the way she stares off into space just a little too long, in the way she gulps coffee like it’s the only thing keeping her alive, and in the bruised skin under her eyes, too dark for make-up to hide. "</p><p>NOTE: I have altered the original story "Losing Sleep" into a series of that name, while I will continue posting the individual stories as separate pieces of the series. Hopefully this will diminish confusion.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Demons of the Night I

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own Arrow.

She isn’t sleeping; it’s obvious. He can see it in the way she stares off into space just a little too long, in the way she gulps coffee like it’s the only thing keeping her alive, and in the bruised skin under her eyes, too dark for make-up to hide. Not that she wears much make-up these days. What with her new employment status of, well, _not_ employed, she says she doesn’t need to concentrate so much on looking the part. She tries to sell it as a good thing, but he sees through the lie. In truth, she’s exhausted and has no energy to expend on her appearance; she just won’t tell any of them that.

 

He assumes it’s from overworking herself. She’s the brains of this operation, as she never fails to remind them, and she’s trying to live up to that moniker. With Slade’s next move anyone’s guess, she’s been working overtime on her overtime trying to find anything to tip the scales back in their favour. So really, he can’t be faulted for thinking that it’s this that’s keeping her up at night, preventing her body from shutting down and getting the rest it desperately needs. It doesn’t occur to him that the cause of her exhaustion isn’t from a lack of _trying_ to sleep.

 

He doesn’t realize what’s really going on until she dozes off in front of her computers in the foundry one night. He emerges from changing in the back to find her head resting on her arms, eyes closed and breathing deep. Oliver gives himself a minute to just watch her, the peaceful expression on her face lulling him into his own sense of relaxation. It’s been far too long since he’s gotten a full night’s rest himself, but he accepted the impossibility of that long ago. His nights have always been plagued by nightmares, and even though they’ve gotten more frequent since Slade’s appearance, they don’t surprise him. Over the years, he learned to adapt and cope with his overactive brain, working his body to the point of collapse to ensure at least three to four hours of sleep each night. Lately, those three to four hours have still been plagued by tossing and turning, and he’s glad Sara has been staying with Laurel since their father’s arrest, if only because it means he won’t keep her awake.

 

A muffled sound from the blonde sleeping in front of the computers brings him out of his head, and his eyebrows draw together as he looks at her. Somewhere along the line, her face became pinched in a frown and her breathing quickened. Whatever is happening in her dreams right now, it isn’t as pleasant as before. Oliver stands still for a moment, unsure of what to do. Felicity is now muttering in her sleep, words that sound suspiciously like ‘no’ and ‘not him’. He’s the only one down here right now, with Diggle gone for the night and Roy only God knows where, but he isn’t sure if he should try to soothe her. More accurately, he isn’t sure _how_.

 

Her dream has clearly become a nightmare, but Oliver’s own experiences with nightmares typically involve torture and madmen and loved ones dying. He wakes from them in a cold sweat, disoriented and ready to attack. There’s no soothing their outcome, and he doesn’t expect there ever will be. They’re called nightmares for a reason.

 

He’s not sure what Felicity’s nightmare is about, but he doesn’t think that soothing her is an effective way to help. If anything, she’d probably appreciate being woken up the most. As painful as it will be trying to separate dream from reality for those first few seconds, the terror he now sees on her face will start to fade once she does.

 

Decision made, he approaches cautiously, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder. She doesn’t wake, only jerks away from him and flinches in her sleep. Going for Plan B, he kneels beside her chair and reaches for her shoulder again. His hand doesn’t stop when he expects it to, though, instead continuing on to brush fallen strands of hair from her face.

 

“Felicity,” he whispers, and then repeats her name a bit more loudly when she doesn’t respond.

 

He’s on the verge of outright shaking her awake when she jolts upright with a gasp of, “John!”

 

Any other time he might be amused, but he’s spent the last minute or so with a tight ball of agonized empathy for her writhing in his stomach and she still looks so frightened. Her eyes are flicking around the room at lightning speed, trying to get her bearings. Her breathing is even more erratic, and before he can stop himself, he’s reaching out to cradle her face in his hands. Even as he tells himself he shouldn’t, that he’s crossing lines he’s so carefully drawn, he brings her attention to him, one hand stroking down the side of her face while the other remains stationary, thumb stroking her cheek. One of her hands comes up to wrap around his wrist, fingers on his pulse point.

 

“Hey,” he says softly, urgently, demanding her attention. “Hey, Felicity, you’re okay. You’re in the foundry. You’re safe.”

 

Her breathing is still coming in panicked gasps as she tries to make sense of the information, and he can see the moment it does. Her eyes clear just a bit and she nods to herself before the moisture pools in them. It doesn’t fall, but it comes close before she stares up at the ceiling and tries to blink it away. Without thinking, he leans forward, wrapping one arm around the small of her back while his other hand cradles the back of her head. He stands, pulling her with him, in order to secure the embrace he knows he shouldn’t be offering. It takes a few seconds for her arms to come around his waist, but when they do they grip the back of his shirt tightly and his arm shifts up to her shoulders to hold her firmly against his chest. Her face is tucked against his neck, his head propped on hers, but he can’t feel any indication of tears as her breathing evens out.

 

He’s not sure how long they stand there before she starts to pull away, but he does know that he shouldn’t feel the loss of her warmth against him so completely. It isn’t safe for him to have these feelings.

 

“Sorry,” she mumbles, turning back to study her computer screens.

 

“You have nothing to apologize for,” he responds sincerely. “You, uh, want to talk about it?”

 

She grimaces and shakes her head, still avoiding him. “It’s nothing. Just a bad dream. They happen.” She sits back down, intent on getting back to work and forgetting this ever happened.

 

It’s then that he clues in, and he curses himself for being so oblivious. _Of course_ she’s having nightmares. He knows she had a few after the incident with the Count, and he should have recognized the signs. But he’s been too wrapped up in himself, Slade, and his family to really notice much of anything these days.

 

It doesn’t help that he’s never seen Felicity as capable of being plagued by the same sort of evil that haunts him. She’s too good, too pure, to fall victim to the demons of the night. The blonde has always been bright and happy during the day, despite her recent exhaustion, leaving no indication that their nighttime activities stay with her just as much as they do him. He should have seen it, though. He should have suspected. There was a time when he would have, but ever since Sara came back and Slade reappeared things have been different, tense. They’ve grown apart, and he knows most of that is his fault, and not just because he’s trying to keep her at arm’s length for her own safety. He’s also been desperately trying to hold on to Sara, lest she disappear again. So many people have left him that he doesn’t think he could bear to lose another.

 

His relationship with Felicity has suffered as a result, but he hasn’t seen how much until this very moment. Diggle probably knows exactly what’s going on with her, but Oliver? No, he’s been too wrapped up in treating her like a sidekick, even after going out of his way to ensure she knew she was his _partner_ , to notice she’s been struggling just as much as the rest of them.

 

“I have them, too,” he admits suddenly. She tenses, fingers halting over the keyboard. He isn’t sure why he said it, but now that he has he needs to fully commit. “I’ve always had them, but lately… I don’t get much sleep these days either.”

 

He holds his breath, wondering if she’ll accept the offer. When she slowly swivels her chair to appraise him, he exhales in relief.

 

“I think I’ve foreseen just about every possible outcome of this situation,” she tells him, trying to turn it into a joke, but her eyes tell him it’s anything but. She looks down at her hands as she continues, voice barely above a whisper. “You and Digg… You die a lot in my dreams. Sara and Roy, too, occasionally, but somehow it’s never as bad. Does that make me a horrible person?”

 

The look in her eyes when she glances up makes him think she’s already decided the answer, but he shakes his head. She told him once that he and Diggle were her family, right before she blew his conventional one to bits. One thing that taught him is, conventional or not, losing your family hurts like hell.

 

“It’s the worst for me when you die,” he confesses quietly. He knows he’s said too much, revealed too much of himself in that one sentence, but he can’t bring himself to care. Not when she’s looking at him like that. He needs her to know that she means as much to him and he does to her. Probably more, but he’ll never let that out.

 

She doesn’t seem to know what to say to that as she twists her fingers in her lap. Finally, she looks up at him. “Does it help… talking about it?”

 

He shrugs honestly. “I’ve never really told anyone about it.”

 

The impact of that statement is not lost on either of them. He could have chosen anyone; Digg, his _girlfriend_ , a therapist (probably the healthiest option)… but he’s talking to her. True, he hasn’t said much, but he’s definitely said more than he ever has before.

 

“Then I guess we’ll be each other’s test case,” she finally says, forcing a tight-lipped smile. It turns genuine, however, at her next words. “But first: chocolate, because it makes everything better. If we’re going to do this, we’re going to need it.”

 

With that, she reaches down and fishes around in her purse before pulling out two Kit Kat bars and holding one out to him.

 

He raises an eyebrow at her in silent inquiry and she shrugs. “Emergency stash. Never know when you’re going to encounter a situation requiring chocolate,” she tells him, gesturing between the two of them, “Case and point.”

 

Oliver shakes his head but accepts the red package with a genuine smile on his face nonetheless. Leave it to Felicity.

 

A couple of hours later, she’s told him about Diggle getting tortured for information, shot in the head, thrown off a building, and countless other deaths he wishes she hadn’t seen. In return, he tells her about seeing things like his sister run through with a sword and pierced by his own arrows. Neither of them discusses the other’s starring roles in their nightmares by unspoken agreement.

 

She stifles a yawn when she glances at the clock. It’s 3:45 AM.

 

He stands from the chair he pulled out across from her and holds out her jacket. She tosses him a confused glance before putting her arms through the holes. Next, he hands her the cell phone on the desk and tells her to call Digg. Her eyes widen as she realizes she forgot he was more than likely outside her house.

 

“Tell him I’m taking you home and that he can take off and get some real sleep. I’ll crash on your couch for the rest of the night.”

 

She raises an eyebrow, trying to lighten the mood. “Oh, you will, will you?”

 

He nods in confirmation, not even looking abashed at his presumption. While she makes the call, he heads to the back to grab his own coat and make sure everything else is secure. He’s barely left the foundry in the past weeks, and while the thought of leaving it now makes him a bit nervous, he knows it’s necessary. The idea of leaving Felicity when he’ll likely dream of her death tonight is a thoroughly unappealing option, and she needs space from the basement if she’s going to stay sane. So, the next best option is to go with her. Having her within a few steps of him makes him feel far more secure, even if it will paint an even larger target on her back. He tells himself it’s just one night, and that he can allow the indulgence just this once.

 

And it will be just this once. He can’t risk Slade finding out if it were to become a habit, and it’s that thought keeping his desire to watch over her himself every night at bay. He won’t put her in any more jeopardy than she is already just because he’s afraid to lose her.

 

So he gives himself the night, just one, to escort her home and sleep on her couch and just be _close_ to her. He gives himself one night to indulge in the surface of his desire where Felicity is concerned, keeping the rest firmly buried. Sleeping on her couch this once won’t hurt anyone. At least that’s what he tells himself.

 

When he wakes in the morning, he catches that the clock reads 9AM and he jerks up in surprise. They got to her place at around 4:30AM last night, and though he passed out pretty quickly after he lay down, he wasn’t expecting to get four and a half hours of mostly uninterrupted sleep. He only woke up once, and even then it didn’t take him long to adjust to his foreign surroundings. After a quick trip down the hall to watch her rest for a few minutes, he found it easier to go back to sleep. It helps that her place smells like her: a mixture of citrus and vanilla and strawberries that somehow combines to be so uniquely _Felicity_ that he isn’t sure it would work as well for anybody else.

 

However, he keeps his promise to himself. It will only be a one-time thing. This can’t happen again. It won’t.

 

They’re the first at the foundry since he’s told Digg to take the morning and Sara is still with Laurel working on a way to get Quentin released. It’s business as usual when she sits down at her computers and starts fresh while he heads to the mats for a workout.

 

When he drops from the salmon ladder at the end of his usual routine, she’s turned to face him. It takes her a moment before she gives him a tentative smile. “Thank you… for last night. It helped.”

 

He nods his head in acknowledgement, the barest of smiles twitching his lips. “It helped me, too.”

 

He doesn’t have to tell her it won’t happen again. The way she looks at him indicates she already knows that. It frightens him sometimes, her ability to read him so easily.

 

The sound of the foundry door opening startles them back into action, and they’ve both retreated to their own areas of the foundry by the time Sara clears the last few steps. She pauses for a moment, looking between them before heading to Oliver and the training area.

 

“Did you have better luck sleeping last night?” She asks when she comes even with his side.

 

He nods. “One of my better nights.”

 

“Good,” Sara replies with an upturn of her lips before she heads to the back to change into workout clothes.

 

She doesn’t tell him that she was having her own trouble sleeping last night and came by at 4AM, just in time to see him getting in to Felicity’s car.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, as I was writing this, I was thinking of ways in which the whole ‘nightmare’ and ‘dreaming of death’ subjects could be made into other small pieces, and then I figured it was kind of limiting to consider just one portion of the area of sleep, so I decided to expand it to the much broader area of ‘Losing Sleep’. So, if there’s interest, I would definitely consider expanding this to end up as a series of sometimes related, sometimes not related oneshots/ short multi-chapter pieces (like 2 or 3-parters) about the different ways characters can lose sleep, which leaves many more possibilities.  
> All characters and platonic relationships would be fair game, but I wouldn’t stray from romantic pairings of Roy/Thea and Olicity. The Olicity would range from established to something more along the lines of this one where they aren’t actually together (but, because I’m diehard Olicity, you would be able to tell they’re meant to be, or at least pining after each other). Some would be serious, some a bit more cheesy and fluffy, just kind of depends on what strikes me. It would probably be more of a sporadic update type of thing, where I just add to it as I get ideas. I’d also take prompts/ideas from you guys, if there’s something you want to see. I can’t promise I’ll get to it right away since finals are creeping up and I’ve got a couple of other stories happening right now, but I will try my best. So, if you’d be interested in that, just let me know in that beautiful little box down there and/or hit the follow button and I’ll see what I can do!


	2. Demons of the Night II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 2- Demons of the Night II: "So she may be a little jealous. But shouldn't she be? She's his girlfriend, not Felicity. Oliver should be coming to her when he can't sleep. Instead, he seems to be seeking out the only other female member of their team and it's grating on her nerves. She can't help it."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wasn't planning to expand on the first one, but 2.19 gave me some inspiration. For the purposes of this, Part I took place between 2.18 and 2.19, and Part II takes place a couple of weeks after 2.19

Sara stares at the ceiling, unable to lull herself to sleep. It’s not that she doesn’t feel safe on Laurel’s couch. She just can’t shut her brain off. Every time she tells herself she’s being ridiculous, her thoughts circle back to the beginning and start all over again. At this point, she’d welcome the nightmares that come with sleep. She’s used to them; she knows how to handle her nightly demons. She doesn’t know how to deal with these new and suddenly intense daily anxieties.

 

It’s not just Slade and worry for her family keeping her awake, either. It’s Oliver. When they got together, it was an unspoken agreement of need and understanding. They needed each other to deal with everything that happened on the island. They understood each other in ways that no one else could and they needed that understanding. There were no promises of undying love, no declarations of long repressed feelings finally coming to the surface. Just a mutual understanding of need.

 

Which is why she’s so confused. She shouldn’t be lying awake, agonizing over the events of the past couple of weeks. She shouldn’t be dissecting the ease with which he lied to her about spending the night at Felicity’s, and it shouldn’t be bothering her this much. She should be happy that he finally found a way to get some rest, but she’s consumed by a burning in her gut every time she thinks about it. Whenever she watches them interact it’s with renewed calculation, studying every word, expression, and faint touch, cataloguing them in her mind and bringing them back out for the ultimate game of masochism at night. If she didn’t know any better, she’d say she was jealous.

 

But she can’t be, because she’s Sara Lance, and she doesn’t _do_ jealousy. She’s a former assassin, has killed far too many people to count. Jealousy isn’t a luxury she has anymore. Not only should she be incapable of it, but it would mean she’s broken their unspoken agreement. She’s allowed emotion to seep in where it doesn’t belong. Sure, they’re connected, and they certainly love each other, but they aren’t _in love_ with each other. They both knew that going in. Neither of them cared. They wanted companionship without any questions, and they could give that to each other. Not to mention they were both scared to lose the other again. So they fell into familiarity and comfort, the only semblance of a relationship they can have. And yet here she lies, night after night, staring at her sister’s ceiling and agonizing over his relationship with another woman. Because that’s what it is, if she’s being honest. Those two are _not_ just friends, regardless of their ignorance to that fact.

 

She didn’t tell him she knew where he’d really spent the night, both because she doesn’t want to cause a rift and because she isn’t sure she wants to know what exactly happened. She’s sure he wouldn’t do that to her, not after what they did to Laurel, but the idea that nothing happened is somehow worse than the possibility that something did. It’s easier to think he found physical solace in Felicity than emotional understanding. Maybe it’s because she can feel him slipping away when all she wants is to hold on tight or because understanding is what _they’re_ supposed to have, but her stomach twists just thinking about it.

 

So she may be a little jealous. But shouldn’t she be? _She’s_ his girlfriend, not Felicity. He should be talking to _her_ , smiling at _her_ , laughing with _her_. Oliver should be coming to _her_ when he can’t sleep. Instead, he seems to be seeking out the only other female member of their team for all of the above and it’s grating on her nerves. She can’t help it. As much as she wants to repress the irrational feelings, she’s a woman and apparently she’s fallen back in… _something_ with Oliver somewhere along the line. It isn’t love, she knows that, but it’s more than either of them bargained for.

 

* * *

 

She’s been playing the moment they found Slade in the foundry on a loop in her head. Felicity was in front of him, she and Digg behind. The second the other blonde stopped short she felt the tension rolling from Oliver in waves. Her breath caught when Slade pointed the gun up at them and she sensed Oliver’s muscles coiling to attack just as hers were. But instead of going for Slade like she expected, he reached out for Felicity, pulling her behind him and over the railing. The epitome of human shield, he remained guarding her until it became clear that she and Digg couldn’t take Slade down. She remembers wondering where he was and why he wasn’t immediately on the offensive against his former friend, but she shouldn’t have even needed to ask. He made a choice to protect Felicity, something the petulant, jealous girl inside of her points out Diggle could have done just as well.

 

She knows she shouldn’t question it. He _was_ closer to her than Diggle was, but he was also closer to Slade than either of them. He could just as easily have provided the distraction Diggle needed to get Felicity to safety. She can’t help but think his instinctual reaction to grab Felicity rather than launch himself at Slade tipped his hand to the man a little too much. It tipped his hand to her, too. But she shouldn’t care so much. It shouldn’t keep her awake at night the way it does.

 

Sure, he insisted on taking her to the hospital afterward, but she could sense his restlessness while they waited. He was anxious, and that feeling still hasn’t dimmed. Ever since that night, Oliver’s been on overdrive, never slowing down. Sara tries to talk to him but he brushes her off, saying they need to stay focused. He has time to talk to _Felicity_ , though. She remembers overhearing them one night when they obviously thought they were alone.

 

_“Oliver, you need to sleep. You won’t do anyone any good exhausted.”_

_“I can’t. Every time I close my eyes…” He’s silent for a moment, and when she hears his next words she can almost feel his heart breaking. “He was pointing that gun at you, Felicity. He was going to shoot you and I can’t help but wonder what would have happened if he’d-”_

_“But he didn’t.”_

* * *

It shouldn’t surprise her, really, the way he sticks close to Felicity, especially after hearing that, but it does. Ever since Sara first returned to Starling City she noticed Oliver keeps a firmly defined distance between them and Felicity respects that. Now, with Slade getting closer, she expects Oliver to expand that distance like he started to when the man made his first appearance. Instead, he seems to be pulling her closer after the incident in the foundry. The only time Felicity isn’t within arm’s reach of him is when she convinces him to head out on patrol and when he sends her home with Digg at the end of the night.

 

She tells herself that it’s because they’ve already had this conversation and he knows she can take care of herself, but the small nagging voice in the back of her head tells her that’s not all of it. She can see it in the way he discreetly places himself in front of her before they enter the foundry, even if she or Diggle is already ahead of her. He hovers when they’re in public, putting his body between her and wherever he deems the greatest threat to be capable of coming from. On a recent trip to Big Belly, he ushered her into the side of the booth opposite from where she usually sits, putting her between the wall and himself, facing the door the way he likes to.

 

She isn’t even sure he realizes he’s doing it, to be honest. It’s one of the only things keeping her in check. She can’t be angry at him for something he isn’t consciously doing, can she? Especially not when he and Felicity are so naturally close that she’s probably overreacting. She noticed their relationship wasn’t exactly normal the first time she met Felicity, but back then she’d been on the run from the League and she was just happy to see that Oliver had friends helping him. Now, though, she’s beginning to resent their close bond, and she has no idea how to cope with those feelings. She hasn’t been jealous in a very long time (the last time she was with Oliver, actually) and she’s still trying to get a handle on it.

 

She tries to tell herself she’s being ridiculous. She shouldn’t feel the need to still be sleeping on Laurel’s couch. Her sister wants to question her about it, she can tell, but thankfully the brunette hasn’t worked out the best way to do that yet. She shouldn’t be lying awake at night either, trying and failing to quiet her racing mind. Sara’s not the insecure girl she was before the island, scrambling for any scrap of Oliver Queen’s attention. She’s his _girlfriend_ now; she’s _not_ the other woman. So why does she still feel like she is?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, so that was pretty short and not directly Olicity, but I’d still love to hear your thoughts! I try to remain fair to all of the characters (even Laurel) when I’m writing, and I really do like Sara. I just don’t like her with Oliver. To me, they seem better as a platonic crime-fighting duo. I just don’t see the whole ‘epic love’ pull that I feel like the show wants me to, so instead I take a somewhat depressing outlook on their relationship.


	3. Demons of the Night III

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She’s been trying to fall asleep for the past two hours but hasn’t been able to manage it. Instead, her eyes remain focused on her blurry ceiling while she grows increasingly frustrated. It isn’t just the nightmares keeping her awake tonight. Sometimes she fears her biggest demon is her own mind. She just can’t stop thinking.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, I guess this is just proof that I can’t write a one-shot haha, but there were requests for further expansion and some closure, so hopefully this delivers that. I was going to wait until after this week’s episode, but I read the description and it gave me an idea for how to proceed. We’ve covered Oliver’s point of view, Sara’s point of view, so really why should Felicity get ignored? This is a little less self-reflective and such, mainly because I see Felicity as a less introspective character. Not to say she doesn’t reflect or think or anything, just that she’s less broody than Oliver or Sara, so I see her as not really needing the huge portions of introspection that Oliver and Sara gave us. So, she does think, she’s just also a lot more dialogue-y than the previous parts.

She can’t believe the words coming out of Sara’s mouth. Normally, she respects the blonde woman, even admires her, but right now? Respect is the furthest thing from her mind. So is her sense of self-preservation, if the way her feet are carrying her toward the blonde is any indication. Her brain is telling her this is the worst possible idea but she can’t get her limbs to listen.

 

“What did you just say?” She asks, her tone sharp.

 

She’s stopped a few feet behind Oliver, who is stiffly facing his girlfriend. Diggle takes a few steps, arm outstretched as if to pull her back toward the safety of her monitors before he reconsiders and lets it drop to his side. Sara turns her attention to Felicity, eyes cold and unforgiving.

 

“I _said_ that the Mirakuru has taken over. Roy’s too far gone for us to help him.”

 

“So what, we kill him? Put the dog out its misery?” Felicity challenges bitterly, crossing her arms.

 

Sara’s armor chips, then, her voice growing soft. “It’s the only way.”

 

“Except Roy’s not a _dog_ , Sara!” Oliver snaps. “He’s a person. We can _help_ him.”

 

Sara’s eyes flash. “Yeah, we’ve really done a bang-up job of that, haven’t we?”

 

There’s nothing any of them can think to say to that, because it’s true. They’ve failed Roy, each and every one of them. His world collapsed around him and they just stood by and watched. They’re still just standing by and watching. Felicity more in the literal sense as she tries to track him down on the traffic cameras, but the sentiment remains the same.

 

The blonde sighs after a moment of silence. “Look, I know this isn’t ideal, but it’s what has to be done. Roy’s dangerous.”

 

“Not ideal?” Felicity scoffs. “Not _ideal_?” She’s walking again, taking a step with every sentence. “The grocery store being out of mint chip ice cream is not ideal. The shirt you find in the store being twice your budget is not ideal. You’re talking about taking a man’s life, Sara! All because he got injected with super serum which, I must point out, he didn’t ask for!”

 

A hand comes out to stop her advance on the other blonde. Felicity looks down to see Oliver’s fingers wrapped around her wrist, gentle but firm. She ignores the spark of electricity that shoots from where their skin touches. Now is _not_ the time.

 

“We aren’t killing him,” he says with a tone of finality.

 

Felicity’s stomach floods with relief. She half-expected Oliver to be on the same page as Sara, so she can’t help but be glad that he’s starting to remember who he is again. Ever since Sara came back to town, he’s been different, and not in a good way. She has nothing against the other woman, even likes her, but she doesn’t feel the same way about the change she’s sparked in Oliver. He’s been distant, selfish, and has made some very questionable choices since her return. Over the past few weeks, though, he’s started to return to his old self, and while it means more spats between him and Sara, Felicity’s happy her Oliver is coming back. Not that he’s _her_ Oliver, her Oliver. He’s not. He’s just… the version of Oliver she can believe in. The one who treats her like his equal, not his subordinate. The one who trusts her enough to talk to her when things aren’t going well or he can’t sleep. The one who’s a tad bit overprotective (yes, she’s noticed his unnatural proximity to her ever since the Slade incident in the lair and, even though she finds it highly ridiculous, she won’t say anything because she’d rather have Overprotective Oliver than Aloof Oliver).

 

“Well then I guess that settles it,” Sara bites out, throwing a look between the two of them that Felicity can’t quite identify. When the other woman’s eyes shift down to where he still holds her wrist, Felicity understands and rips it from his grasp abruptly.

 

Diggle breaks the uncomfortable silence with a well-placed cough before giving Felicity the out she suddenly craves. The room has grown tense in a completely different way over the course of the past minute and she doesn’t want to be anywhere near it anymore. She jumps at Digg’s offer to drive her home, walking quickly back to her desk to grab her things. Neither Oliver nor Sara acknowledge the pair as they make their escape, too busy glaring daggers at each other.

 

* * *

 

She’s been trying to fall asleep for the past two hours but hasn’t been able to manage it. Instead, her eyes remain focused on her blurry ceiling while she grows increasingly frustrated. It isn’t just the nightmares keeping her awake tonight. Sometimes she fears her biggest demon is her own mind. She just can’t stop _thinking._

 

First, there’s Roy. They managed to get him under control, bringing him down to the foundry before he could do any lasting damage to anyone. He has a long way to go to get himself back under control, though. She can only hope Caitlin and Cisco get that cure done before Oliver reaches his breaking point and admits Sara may have been right.

 

That leads right in to the second item on her mental list tonight. Oliver and Sara have been tense ever since their minor blow-up about Roy, all clipped tones and monosyllabic responses. It’s downright irritating trying to work as a team when two of their members are so obviously at odds. This fight seems to be lasting longer than the others, too.

 

And then there’s the fact that she’s currently unemployed. Sure, it may be taking a back seat to some issues that are a little more pressing right now, like where the hell the psycho seeking revenge against Oliver is, but it’s still there. She _does_ have bills to pay, and while she has some money saved up it won’t tide her over for long. Once this Slade business wraps up, she’ll have to start looking for a job, though she isn’t sure what company will hire an MIT grad who ditched the IT department to take a position as EA to the CEO. It looks awful, and there’s no way she can hide it from prospective employers.

 

Felicity blows out a heavy breath, trying to shut it all off. As usual, she can’t. It would be a whole lot easier if she wasn’t apprehensive about going to sleep in the first place, giving her brain an excuse to keep working. Talking to Oliver about the nightmares helped somewhat, but they’re still there. The night he stayed with her it was better, knowing he was in the next room when she came back to awareness, but she still watches death unfold before her on a nightly basis. It never gets less disturbing.

 

Sighing again, Felicity rolls over on her side, forcing her eyes closed. If she could just _stop thinking_. But she never does. Well, unless she’s talking, and that’s not a good thing.

 

The sound of a soft rap on her door draws her eyes back open. She has half a mind to ignore it, but figures what the hell? It’s not like she’s sleeping anyways. Instead, she grabs her glasses and a sweater from the end of her bed, pulling it over her head as she pads to the front door. Checking the peephole before opening it, because she can just _see_ Digg’s exasperated face if she didn’t, her head jerks back in surprise. It takes her a moment to recover before she turns the lock and opens the door.

 

“Oliver? What are you doing here?”

 

He shoves his hands in his pockets awkwardly, dipping his head and then looking back up at her. “Sorry. I just- Roy’s at the foundry and Sara- I was taking a drive and just sort of found myself here… Did I wake you?”

 

She shakes her head, standing back to allow him inside. He’s got that look on his face, the one that makes her want to smooth the seemingly permanent frown lines from his forehead. It only shows up when something’s eating at him, something he can’t quite wrap his head around. When she turns back from locking the door, he jerks his body around to survey the rest of her living room. It’s almost like he was staring at her.

 

“Still not sleeping well?” He wonders, talking with his back to her.

 

“Not really,” she admits, passing him to sit on the couch.

 

When she looks expectantly over her shoulder, he joins her, leaving a careful distance between them. She almost laughs because, really? Does he think she doesn’t notice the constant push and pull that is their relationship? One minute he’s pushing her away, the next he’s telling her about his nightmares and drawing her in, then he’s back on the other side of the sandbox just as fast. But wait! He’s also manhandling her over a railing and playing the protector, but God forbid he infringe on her couch cushion. It’s enough to give her whiplash, and maybe that’s the reason the irritation coils in her stomach as he avoids looking at her. He came to _her_ house, in the middle of the night, and now he won’t even glance in her general direction?

 

“What are you doing here, Oliver?” She sighs.

 

He looks alarmed at her bluntness, though at this point he really shouldn’t. He should know she doesn’t hold back.

 

It takes him a moment of fidgeting and fist clenching to finally admit, “I- I’m not exactly sure.”

 

It takes a great deal of willpower to remain silent, waiting him out.

 

He swallows heavily. “Sara and I broke up.”

 

Felicity blinks. Well. That is unexpected. “Um… Wow. I’m sorry.”

 

The answering smile on his face is rueful as he rubs his palms together, elbows balancing on his knees. “It’s… been a long time coming.”

 

More silence. Felicity’s trying to wrap her head around his reaction. He seems… perfectly fine with the fact that he just broke up with his girlfriend. Shock. He must be in shock.

 

He scoffs into the silence. “What kind of man does that make me? Sara and I break up and all I can say is it was a long time coming.”

 

“Sometimes relationships just… fizzle out,” Felicity tells him. “You know, you meet someone and you have a connection and everything’s fine, until one day it isn’t anymore. But you keep going, because it’s familiar and you’re comfortable, until one day you just can’t.” Her voice is far away, but she brings herself back to reality when she remembers this is Oliver Queen and Sara Lance. “Not that this is that simple.”

 

The corners of his lips twitch. “You sound like you’re speaking from experience.”

 

She laughs lightly. “I might be.”

 

His name was Brian, and they met at MIT. She was still an undergraduate at the time, and she’d thought he was amazing. She’d fallen head over heels for him and he for her, until one day it just wasn’t the same. He was a devout Catholic, something they could ignore in the beginning but that became a larger issue when the topic of children came up in their long-winded ‘what if’ conversations about the future. The conversations used to be silly and cute, but they grew more serious the longer they were together. By the time their relationship stuttered to a halt, she was just finishing up her Master’s and he was already in a stable job. She had her whole life re-opened to her. She could go anywhere and do anything, but he liked the stable income and regular hours. In short, their values clashed. They stuck it out for five months longer than they probably needed to, so at least Oliver and Sara hadn’t hit _that_ mark. Though she and Brian weren’t having differences of opinion on the topic of murder either.

 

“You know what else I can tell you from experience?” She asks suddenly, bouncing off the couch and heading to the kitchen. He doesn’t follow, but she doesn’t expect him to. In fact, she’s banking on him not following her.

 

“What?” He calls, humouring her.

 

She grabs two spoons and heads back to the couch. “Ice cream helps.”

 

He raises an amused eyebrow, pulled from his guilt-ridden reverie despite himself. She hands him a spoon and opens the carton, digging in.

 

“Sorry. I have no bowls. No time to do dishes what with the world always falling apart and whatnot. It was a miracle we got spoons,” she tells him, grinning. When he makes no move to react, she waves the carton in his face. “Go on. It won’t bite. I promise.”

 

Her grin widens triumphantly when he hesitantly dips the spoon into the green mint chip.

 

“Why is junk food always your solution?” He asks, voice carefully light.

 

“Because it solves all problems,” she shoots back, falling against the couch cushions.

 

He shifts, taking another spoonful of ice cream from the container she holds between them, muttering, “Maybe we should give Roy some ice cream then.”

 

She laughs despite the serious nature of their Roy issues. “Yeah, I’m sure he’ll mellow right out.”

 

Laughing about it is good. When they’re laughing about it (well, as close to laughing as Oliver ever gets) they can get some distance, loosen the tension. They can take a break from the storm their lives have become and sit on the couch and eat ice cream and pretend the world outside doesn’t exist. Every so often, they need to forget. Even Oliver, though he never acknowledges it. She likes to think of it as her job to make sure he takes a break from the non-stop angst every so often. If only she got paid for that…

 

“Do you…” She hesitates, wondering if she should even offer. He’ll probably just say no anyways, so really where’s the harm? “Do you need a place to stay? I mean, Roy is in the foundry and I really don’t think you want to engage in any bonding right now, and Sara’s… not an option. Digg’s outside my door most nights anyways but I guess there’s always his car… And I’m not really sure where you stand with your mother, but my couch is always available or, better yet, I actually have a guest room. You know, the one you turned down last time you were here?” Her tone takes on a teasing lilt toward the end, trying to dispel some of the awkwardness she’s feeling at having just offered to let Oliver crash at her place after breaking up with his girlfriend.

 

He takes a moment to digest everything she just threw at him before smiling faintly. “I think I’ll be fine. Thanks for the offer though.”

 

It’s a typical Oliver Queen response. She wouldn’t be surprised if he started sleeping in some dark corner of Verdant, to be honest.

 

“What kind of friend would I be if I didn’t offer?” She thinks she sees a flicker of… something in his eyes as she says the words, but it’s gone before she can pay closer attention. “Regardless, I insist you at least sleep here tonight, especially since it’s already…” She glances at the digital clock on her DVD player. “Three in the morning.”

 

She waits for him to decline and make his exit, but something seems to shift and then suddenly he’s nodding. If she said she wasn’t at least a little surprised, she’d be lying, but she thinks she covers it well. She even manages to make a joke as she heads for the linen closet, asking if he’d like to try out the guest room this time. He lives up to her expectations with that one, telling her the couch will be fine. It’s almost like sleeping on the couch is part of his push and pull game. He’ll stay at her house, but only on the couch, as though that somehow makes it better. She’d also be lying if she said Oliver Queen didn’t massively confuse her.

 

When she’s once again lying in bed, she expects her brain to start over analyzing the fact that Oliver showed up on her doorstep after breaking up with his girlfriend. He never did fully explain why he came to her. But for once, her brain is mercifully silent, and she’s able to let sleep take her with little fight.

 

Oliver, on the other hand, lays on the couch, wide awake for a brand new reason. Sara’s words from earlier in the night run through his head on repeat.

 

_“We may love each other, but we aren’t_ in love _with each other. We never can be, and not just because we’ve become too different. You can’t be in love with me when you’re already in love with someone else.”_

_“You know what I’m talking about, Ollie, you just won’t admit it to yourself because you’re afraid of what will happen when you do.”_

 

Sara’s right. He’s terrified.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, so please don’t throw things at me! I know I said there would be closure, but… Well… It’s not exactly a happily ever after, but I didn’t see it happening with where the show is at right now. It’s too soon for Olicity to make a run at it quite yet. Hopefully I didn’t butcher this too badly, though. In the end, not a whole lot of closure actually happened, so I’m sorry I kin d of failed at that. Though I tried to make it hopeful in that he did realize his feelings for Felicity and his relationship with Sara ended. I don’t know, I’m trying to figure out why this happened as I’m typing this and all I can think of is that it just didn’t feel right to go any further than him realizing his feelings but, in typical Oliver Queen fashion, running away from them. All in all, I’m left with feelings of uncertainty about this one. So, please don’t light that review box on fire, but do let me know what you thought!


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